The Long Goodbye
by The Satyricon
Summary: Clark Kent and Chloe Sullivan Kent are where Jon and Martha Kent need them most...39TH in the Icon Chlark AU series...Be kind, review kindly!


**Title:** The Long Goodbye

**Author:** The Satyr Icon

**Rating:** PG

**Spoilers:** Set in Icon AU, Future

**Classification:** Smallville; Chloe/Clark, Kents

**Disclaimer:** _All characters, references, and other things pertaining to 'Smallville' are property of the WB, DC Comics, Tollin-Robins, Al Gough & Miles Millar, and J. Siegal & J. Shuster; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World._

**Summary:** Goodbye...

**Word Count:** 1475

**Written:** 7.24.2005

**Chapter One of Three**

"Clark...hurry home...it's your father...Love, Chloe."

The message crackled over Superman's JLA comm-link while he soared between Earth and the JLA satellite. Superman froze and replayed the message. Any messages about Jonathan Kent were to be relayed to Superman as soon as possible.

"Clark...hurry home...it's your father...Love, Chloe."

And the fact that it was his wife, Chloe Kent, that said the message made it all the more dreadful to Clark. No civilian was allowed to use the comm-link; JLA members knew that Chloe was the exception to that rule.

In an instant, the red and blue streak shifted its course, from circling above Australia and Clark sped towards Smallville, Kansas. For the last several months, Clark had a room set up in the satellite for his father and his mother, Martha, to live in and where his father could be taken care of and tended to by the best doctors. Rarely had Clark acted selfish, and when he asked his fellow members if bringing his father and mother to the satellite was possible, the Batman spoke for them all in his gruff short manner:

"Of Course."

Jonathan had Alzheimer's disease, and he was slipping away, each day, each hour, each moment. Jonathan walked among Gods and didn't know it. Heroes of the Millennium spoke to Jonathan, and he didn't recognize them. To Jonathan, they were friends that dressed funny, friends that were new to him every day.

In short time the rest of the League, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, The Flash, and the Martian Manhunter took to Martha's home cooked meals while medical specialists dealt with her husband. Doctors supplied the Kents with medicine, serums, and therapies to hopefully stem Jonathan's progressive slide. But, genetics overrode all of that and Jonathan fell faster into the insidious disease, becoming more delusional and frail.

One day, Martha told Clark, "Its time to take us home."

"You are home," Clark smiled to his mother (the word "adoptive" long since forgotten), hoping that his smile would win her over.

"No, Son." She patted his soft cheek tenderly. "Home is Smallville. Take us home."

"Yes, Momma," Clark said dutifully. He leaned over and she kissed his cheek. She went into her room and began packing.

Clark heard a chuckle when he shut his parents bedroom door. He knew who it was before he turned around. He looked at the dark figure in the shadow.

"Superman," The trademark Batman scowl turning into a smile. "Putty in his mother's hands."

Clark smiled.

"I'm going to miss her, Clark," Batman said, wistfulness creeping into the rough edges of his voice. "Take your father home, and God bless."

"Thank you Bruce," Clark said, but the shadow was gone.

The Batman heard the message from Chloe. He touched the pressurized window cell, watching the red and blue streak fade into darkness of open space. His gloved fingers curled; his own parents were murdered and he never got to say goodbye. 'Clark says goodbye everyday to his father,' he thought, 'and that alternative is just as painful'. The Caped Crusader whispered his last goodbyes to Jonathan, and went to the Monitor Room.

And now, The Last Son of Krypton was being called home to Earth.

**Chapter Two of Three**

In a heartbeat, Clark landed on Kent farm soil, the red boots kicking up dust. He zipped inside old yellow two story and Chloe was there waiting in the kitchen.

"Jeeze, Clark, I sent that message like 2 seconds ago..." Chloe said with a hard tone, and took his hand and lead Clark upstairs. Superman had been through many things in his lifetime: alien armadas, Lex Luthor's betrayal, several end-of-the world crises, near-Armageddons, and Doomsday. All of which, of course, pale in comparison to his marriage to Chloe Sullivan. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

But watching his skinny father on the bed, his bony arm flailing away, brushing aside demons only he could see and speak to, was almost too much for Clark to bear. Almost, because his mother was at his father's bedside, her face tranquil and calm. 'If she can bear this, I can, too,' The Man of Steel thought. Still, it took Chloe to walk him inside the room.

"He's here, Mom," Chloe said gently to her mother-in-law, laying her free hand on her shoulder.

"Oh," Martha said, and gave a little jump at the touch. She didn't let go of Jonathan's other hand.

Clark came over and kissed his mother's cheek. His eyes misted up.

"It's ok, Son," Martha whispered. "He's in his one last fight."

"Don't say that," Clark whispered. He knew that his father, in his delusions, would battle somebody, a man, everyday. Chloe checked up on the name, checking back into Jonathan's childhood, checked legends and lore. Sadly, Chloe and Clark deduced that whoever Jonathan was fighting was simply created in Jonathan's mind. It was his Alzheimer's taking delusional form. "If he loses the fight...will he die?" Clark whispered to his mother, sounding so much like a child. Chloe watched the man she love's knees buckle when his mother said, "Possibly." Chloe hugged Clark from behind.

"Clark," Martha's voice was smooth. "Maybe if Jonathan _wins_ the fight, he dies."

Superman looked at his mother with a quizzically.

"Maybe then he can get some peace, honey," Martha said with a smile, "and remember us again."

Clark held Chloe tightly and they both nodded to Martha. They watched Jonathan writhe and fight until nightfall. Then Jon's limbs slowly dipped and he sighed, and after a few scary moments of silence, a snore broke the quiet in the room. Martha smiled at Clark. "He's sleeping," she said, and slowly got up.

"Want some tea, Mom?" Chloe asked, already heading out of the room; she was staying at the Kent's home the last few days, helping Martha out at any possible turn. Martha nodded tiredly, and when Chloe was out of the room, she turned to Clark, "She's such a good girl," and gave her boy an approving kiss on the forehead.

**Chapter Three of Three**

Clark watched his father sleep while Chloe and his mother were in the kitchen; Chloe drinking coffee and Martha drinking chamomile tea. Jonathan groaned in his sleep and Clark went from where he sat to his father's side. He held the old man's hand, felt how weak his father's grip was now; Clark remembered how strong his father's hands were, how they held together the farm in lean years. Clark's eyes teared up.

Jonathan moaned and tried to roll onto his side. Clark gently helped, and slid into bed with him, something he had not done since...since he was found in a rocket ship by Jonathan and Martha so many years ago. Clark held his father just like he was held by the farmer those nights when everything was scary to the little boy.

It was again a scary night for Clark.

His father started to roll in the bed, his small tired body somehow finding the strength to fight something not there. Clark held the fate of the world in his hands and never backed down; now...he was afraid.

Suddenly Jonathan's eyes opened, mouth gasping for air, skin old and wrinkled.

"Dad?"

He watched the older man's eyes search his face, search for something to cling to, something in his mind. Usually, Jon failed. Clark was expecting that. Then...

"Son?"

It had been months, long arduous months of being looked at his father and not being recognized, and many months before _that_, of watching his father's memory fall away like sand on a palm, little by little, piece by piece, until...now. One word, raspy and small, fragile like the speaker.

"Son," Jon whispered again, because Clark was shocked. The Man of Steel had tears stream down his face while a smile appeared on his face.

"Yes, Dad?"

"I'm ...not...tired..." Jon's tongue licked his dry lips. Clark moved gently and cradled his father, and held the glass while his father sipped. Some of Jon's motor skills were gone, and water dribbled on him, and Clark. Neither cared.

"You're Superman?" Jon looked at his son's outfit, red and blue, and now dark with tears. "My son's Superman." A grin, a satisfied grin appeared on Jon's face, and Clark saw a twinkle in once were blank eyes. A large hand, a proud farmer's hand, slowly waved to Clark. Closer. Son leaned into Father. "I ...am...so proud...of you...Son."

Superman was gone, and Clark was there, crying, shaking, cradling his father. "Smile ...Clark...thatta boy..." Then Jon patted Clark's cheek and whispered "good..." But he went silent, went quiet, went to sleep. Peacefully. After a few minutes, Clark realized his father was gone, gone too fast, too slow, with remembrances short, and with a long goodbye.

The End...


End file.
